


Put Your Hand in Mine

by atnuka



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Minor whump, Not Iron Man 2 Compliant, POV Ben Parker, POV Tony Stark, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Iron Man 1, Stark Expo, platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atnuka/pseuds/atnuka
Summary: Amazingly, probably to Peter’s eternal delight, Stark patted his helmet and said, “Hey, buddy.”Then, ignoring the adult fans and reporters clamoring for his attention, he crouched next to Peter and asked, “How would you like to take a picture with me and the real Iron Man gauntlet?”Ben pushed through the living barrier between him and Peter in time to see his nephew nod excitedly, nearly knocking heads with Stark.“Excellent.” Stark stood up, looking into the crowd. Snapping his fingers loudly, he spoke over the crowd’s noise. “Whoever’s kid this is, get over here and tell me his name.”Ben could easily see that he came to regret his order in an instant, when the roar of over thirty people screaming children’s names at him had Peter clinging to his leg in fright.--Now a multi-chapter fic! Consider subscribing for notifications on updates :)
Relationships: Ben Parker & Peter Parker, Ben Parker & Tony Stark, Ben Parker/May Parker (Spider-Man), May Parker & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, eventual Tony Stark/Pepper Potts
Comments: 21
Kudos: 167





	Put Your Hand in Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Here's something cute, I hope. Depending on reception and if I get inspired, this may turn into a multi-chap fic. For now, it's a one-shot, so let me know if you enjoy it!

“Peter, settle down.” Ben smiled down at his eager nephew, who was raising himself up on his toes in an attempt to see the doorway. 

“But Ben, he’s coming! Tony Stark’s coming backstage now and we’re going to meet him!” Peter tugged on his uncle’s sleeve, trying to draw him into his excitement. The eight-year-old’s wide eyes and toothy grin were contagious, and Ben couldn’t help share in his glee, just a little. 

Despite his reservations about Stark, considering his company’s history of weapons manufacturing and more recent allegations of under-the-table dealings, Ben hadn’t been able to say no when Peter had asked. Considering their nephew had spent the past few months doing odd jobs around the apartment building—helping Mr. Widmaier in 3C carry up his groceries and babysitting the children of the young couple in 6A—and at Delmar’s to pay for the tickets, even May, whose anti-Stark Industries ramblings had been legendary during their college years, couldn’t find it in herself to refuse him.

A year ago, Peter had been fascinated by Stark’s tech, particularly the large arc reactor powering his factory and the various child-friendly inventions May and Ben had allowed him to read about. For the most part, Peter’s admiration for Stark had been limited to watching his speeches for the Maria Stark Foundation and spouting facts about his early achievements at the dinner table. 

When the world erupted after Stark’s speech a year and half ago, Peter’s hero-worship became fully realised. As Iron Man, Stark had practically become a comic-book character come to life. For Peter, a small-for-his-age kid with asthma and thick glasses, seeing a man become a hero using his smarts and skills was a dream come true. Super-soldiers like Captain America were relics of the past, but Iron Man was a sign of what the future could be. 

When they’d found out that their opening night tickets had been selected for a special backstage pass to meet Tony Stark, Peter had just about bounced off the walls with excitement. He and Ned made lists of questions to ask the hero, and Peter promised to tell Ned _everything_ even though he’d be going to the Expo later that week. 

“Ben, I see him!” Peter’s shout was nearly drowned by the tumult overtaking the crowd around them. Ben suddenly wished he were with May instead, walking through the bustling Expo and laughing at the most ridiculous inventions. 

But Peter was looking up at him now, holding out one of his most treasured possessions, so Ben shoved his weariness and rising headache aside. 

“Help me put on the mask, please.” 

After sticking his hand inside to check for anything stuck inside or sharp edges, Ben gestured for Peter to lean his head forward slightly and gently placed the Iron Man helmet onto him. 

He tapped lightly on the front of the mask. “Can you hear me okay in there, Iron Kid?”

Peter protested, “It’s Iron _Man_ , not kid!” He was undoubtedly pouting under there. Only for a second, though, because Tony Stark was coming their way. 

“Go on,” Ben urged, giving Peter a little push forward to join the gaggle of children surrounding the hero. 

Amazingly, probably to Peter’s eternal delight, Stark patted his helmet and said, “Hey, buddy.”

Then, ignoring the adult fans and reporters clamoring for his attention, he crouched next to Peter and asked, “How would you like to take a picture with me and the real Iron Man gauntlet?”

Ben pushed through the living barrier between him and Peter in time to see his nephew nod excitedly, nearly knocking heads with Stark. 

“Excellent.” Stark stood up, looking into the crowd. Snapping his fingers loudly, he spoke over the crowd’s noise. “Whoever’s kid this is, get over here and tell me his name.”

Ben could easily see that he came to regret his order in an instant, when the roar of over thirty people screaming children’s names at him had Peter clinging to his leg in fright. 

“Okay, time for plan B,” Stark muttered, but thankfully Ben was able to protect his nephew from further trauma caused by Stark’s newest scheme by appearing at his side.

Hearing Peter cry “Ben!” with relief and seeing him latch onto the man was enough for Stark to nod at his bodyguard, who jumped into action. 

“HEY!” he roared, making everyone in the vicinity jump and go silent. “Everyone, back up. _Now_.”

Stark kept a hand on Peter’s shoulder as if to say _not you, kid_ , and Ben stayed by Peter’s side as a space was cleared around their trio. 

“That’s better, isn’t it? So,” Stark began herding Peter forward, with Ben following, “there’s a nice spot near here... Ah, there it is.”

The so-called ‘nice spot’ was just out of view of the group of fans, in front of a larger than life poster of Iron Man posed heroically. Ben internally rolled his eyes, but Peter breathed, “Wow...”

“Okay, kid, it’s time.” Stark bent down until he was nearly eye-level with Peter’s helmet. “Are you ready to be a hero?”

Peter’s enthusiastic “YES!” caused Stark to flinch back ever-so-slightly at the volume, but he gamely unstrapped his watch and moved to wrap it around Peter’s much thinner wrist. 

“Then take this gauntlet and show me how you’ll save the city!”

Ben moved forward to protest the _offering of a weapon to a child_ , but Stark winked at him. “Only works for these hands,” he assured him, wiggling his fingers demonstratively before pressing the button on the side of the watch twice. Peter simply looked awestruck as the Iron Man gauntlet unfolded itself over his hand.

Still uncertain, Ben stood opposite of Stark and Peter and lifted his camera from where it had been dangling around his neck. “Ready?” he asked, injecting some excitement into his voice. Peter smiled widely and raised his arm in a mock-battle-ready position, while Stark smirked and leaned down closer to Peter’s height. “One, two, three!”

As he pressed the shutter button, the white circle on the gauntlet glowed brilliantly. Instinctively, he dived to the side, even as Stark shoved Peter’s arm down to aim at the floor and placed himself in front of the boy’s smaller form. 

For one heart-stopping moment, they froze, waiting for the inevitable explosion of powdered tile and concrete. Then, nothing. Stark had managed to retract the gauntlet into its decidedly less lethal form and remove it from Peter’s wrist. 

Danger passed, Ben launched himself forward, pushing Stark out of the way as he removed the helmet from Peter’s head and wrapped himself around his nephew. Tears were dripping down Peter’s face now, frightened out of him at the thought of hurting Ben. 

“You’re okay now, Pumpkin. I promise, no one’s hurt and we’re both going to be fine.” As he cradled Peter’s head and whispered words of comfort in his ear until his sobs turned into sniffles, Ben shifted his position to glare accusingly at Stark. 

Before he could begin to tear into the man for endangering his child, Ben noted the look of shock quickly transforming into self-reproach on Stark’s face. The billionaire was staring at his hands in disbelief, as though they had betrayed him in the worst way. 

When Ben’s eyes continued to bore into him, Stark looked up. He made to take a step closer, then thought better of it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “The gauntlet responds to my gestures and my fingerprints, and...” Stark flexed his fingers, drawing Ben’s attention to them, and lowered his eyes in shame and regret. “I just didn’t think...”

But he didn’t need to continue. Fingerprint matches were few and far in between, so Stark’s lack of precautions was understandable, if not immediately forgivable. 

Even after years after fingerprinting became commonplace, no one knew for sure how matches were chosen, by God, fate, or some other unknown force. Recently, people had begun to theorize that ‘print pairs’ were meant to complete one another, regardless of what roles they filled in the other’s life. 

Ben stood up slowly, lifting Peter up with him, until he stared directly into Stark’s stricken face. Clutching his nephew closer, he exhaled deeply before he spoke. 

“Give me your number.” Ben watched as Stark raised his eyes to meet Ben’s, lips parting and brows furrowing slightly. 

He went on, “Or an email or something. After P—” He hesitated for a moment, then forced himself to continue. “After Peter recovers for a few days, I’ll talk to him about... that.” Ben gestured vaguely at Stark’s fist, where his watch was clenched tightly. 

“If he wants to meet you, I’ll get in touch. Otherwise...” He lifted his unoccupied shoulder in a shrug. “It’s his choice.”

“No.”

Stark’s abrupt reply made Ben jolt, disturbing Peter in the process. The boy whined, burrowing his face deeper into Ben’s neck. 

“No?” Ben asked, rubbing Peter’s back in apology. 

“P—the kid would be better off without me in his life.” He turned away, strapping his watch back onto his wrist. “I’ll call over my assistant, and she’ll handle the rest.”

 _Handle?_ His nephew was not something to be _handled_. Ben scoffed, “Thank you for your _generosity_ , Mr. Stark, but I think we’ll be fine.”

Not waiting to hear if Stark decided to get his head on straight, Ben turned on his heel and marched out of the backstage area. He didn’t stop until he reached May over halfway across the Expo. 

“Oh Peter, what’s wrong?” May asked, catching sight of Peter’s tear-stained cheeks. 

She looked at Ben in search of an explanation, but he merely shook his head. _Later_ , he mouthed. May frowned but didn’t press him for answers.

With a sigh, she leaned forward to press a kiss to the side of Peter’s head. “Let’s call it a night.”

Ben ducked his head as May lifted the camera from around his neck and packed it away. She wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled softly at him and Peter. His lingering fury evaporated. 

Together, the three Parkers began the long walk out of the Expo. 

  
☯ ☯ ☯

  
“Tony, I’ve gotten about fifty calls from people telling me that you handed a _weapon_ to a _child_. Is that true?”

He winced at Pepper’s reproving tone. Staring out onto the highway, he asked, “The kid left his helmet there. Did you pick it up?”

A pause, filled with quiet rock music playing on the radio, as Pepper decided whether or not to continue scolding him. Then, “Yes, I got it. Will they press charges?”

He shook his head.

Pepper sighed. “Opening night, Tony. The Expo is _already_ a gigantic waste of time, and now—”

“Pepper,” Tony interrupted, his tone revealing uncharacteristic weariness. “Not tonight.”

She stared at him, her narrowed eyes visible in the small screen perched on his dashboard.

“Just,” he said, in the same tired voice, “send the kid his helmet and an apology gift. Something nice.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Still peering at him speculatively, she added, “Good luck tomorrow. At the Senate hearing.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Happy?” he asked rhetorically, glancing at the snoring man beside him. 

Pepper mirrored his expression. “Of course. He knows I need to be there to keep you in line.”

He avoided looking at her. “I’ll see you then.”

“Good night, Tony. See you in six hours.”

He nodded, and without another word, she hung up.

Tony drummed his fingers against the wheel, his eyes back on the road in front of him. Two hours until they’d reach DC. Six until he’d appear in front of the Senate committee. 

Three hours since he’d met his match. 

He leaned back in his seat, turning up the volume on the radio to drown out his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> I love all comments/kudos and accept constructive criticism, but I’d appreciate some kindness in the comments.


End file.
